


Laughing in a Winter Wonderland

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [23]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean and Sam Winchester laughing, Gen, Good Parent John Winchester, Happy John Winchester, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Sam Winchester, Sledding, Weechester, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 09:15:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17040980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: As soon as his Dad’s big body tipped the sled over the hill, Dean knew this was going to be bad. They were gaining so much speed as they approached the jump, Dean clutched his father’s arm for dear life. Sammy did the same thing.“Hold on boys.” John said with a huge grin.OR.John and his boys go sledding.





	Laughing in a Winter Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> Ok guys, finals are completed :) 
> 
> I’m amazed at how busy I still am even without school. This really is a busy time of year. Anyway, I busted this story out as soon as I could. I think it’s pretty cute. Hopefully you’ll like it. Happy Holidays. (Ps. This actually takes place after Christmas and a few days after Dean’s birthday, but it’s still wintery and it gives off those holiday feels.)

> **Laughing in a Winter Wonderland**
> 
> **January 27th 1989. Shelburne Vermont. Dean 10. Sammy 6.**

Every evening before he began to tell stories, John Winchester made the bullets for his next day's hunt. Dean and Sam helped him. They brought the big, long-handled spoon, and the box full of silver, and the bullet-mold. Then while he squatted on the ground and made the bullets, they sat one on each side of him, and watched.

First he melted the bits of sliver in the big spoon which held in the coals. When the sliver was melted, he poured it carefully from the spoon into the little hole in the bullet-mold. He waited a minute, then he opened the mold, and out dropped a bright new bullet onto the hearth. 

The small family was gathered around the fire on a snowy winter night in January. It had just been Dean’s tenth birthday three days ago. It was a milestone as he was now in the double-digits. John made sure to praise Dean on what a responsible kid he was becoming and how he’s growing into a fine young man. Unfortunately, John was away for Dean’s birthday. A work trip took longer than John planned and he found himself a day late for Dean’s important day. But John assured his child he would make up for it. 

“After the story tonight, you two need to get ready for bed.” 

“Yes sir.” Came the two trained responses. 

John frowned for a moment. Something about the cold bitter air made him nostalgic. He was beginning to remember Christmas when he was a boy. He remembered how much fun it was to sled and he knew his boys needed some fun in their lives. 

“Hey? What’d you say we go sledding tomorrow?”  His comment caught his boy’s off guard. 

“Really Daddy?” Sam asked. 

John ruffled his youngest son’s hair and smiled. “Yeah bud. Of course.” 

John was physically taken aback when Sam jumped in his arms and gave him a tight squeeze. “Thank you!” The boy said, his brown hair brushing against John’s cheek. 

John hugged him back just as tightly. Dean sat at the side of his dad and smiled. He could have sworn he saw tears form in his father’s eyes, but that didn’t make any sense. Why would Dad be upset? Sammy is just giving him a hug. 

“How about some hot chocolate?” John’s strained voice confirmed Dean’s suspicions about him being upset. But once John returned with the mugs of hot coco, his eyes were back to normal and he was beaming at them. 

“All right, Deano. It’s your turn to pick a story.” John said as he settled back onto the wooden floor of a motel room in Vermont.

Dean put his lips gingerly on the hot mug, and took a very small sip. He had to think for a minute of what kind of story he wanted to hear. 

“Can you tell us about Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa. You know, the time you knocked over the tree and the cat attacked grandma.”  

“Yeah!” Sam quickly chirped. 

John shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. “You don’t want to hear about the time I was a brat.” 

“Yes we do.” Dean and Sam said at the same time. John chuckled quietly, and pulled Dean on his lap along with Sam. 

“Once upon a blue moon, when your old man was just a little tyke, my parents took me to a Christmas tree farm...” 

By the time the story was over, Sam was asleep on John’s shoulder and Dean was still laughing and talking with his father. 

“You’re a great story teller Dad.” Dean informed while he stood up to stretch. 

John thanked Dean and carried Sam to the bathroom. He sat his youngest on the counter top and shook his shoulder softly. 

“Sammy, baby, wake up. You need to brush your teeth.” John whispered. Sam’s eyelashes fluttered open a second later. He looked disoriented until his eyes landed on his father. 

“Hi Daddy.” Sam whispered. 

“Hi buddy. Come on. It’s time to brush your teeth.” 

It was a rare time when John could actually afford a hotel or a rental house instead of a cheap motel, but due to Dean’s belated birthday, he scrapped up enough money to rent a cabin. It was another rarity to be in between jobs. For the time being, he gave himself a break for the boys sake, but hopefully his boys won’t get use to it. 

The next morning, John and the kids spent most of their time playing air hockey. John settled on the couch to watch TV while his boys had a snowball war outside. Finally, when it was evening, John took his kids to a nearby golf course to sled. 

“Are we allowed to be here?” Sam asked cautiously. 

“I’m sure no one will mind. Who’s going to be golfing in the middle of winter.” John said.

He and the boys were bundled in coats as they climbed the hills of the course. Once they were at the top, John put the wooden sled that only fit two, on top of the hill. 

“Okay, climb in. Sammy you sit on Dean’s lap. I’m gonna push the sled and jump on behind Dean.” 

Dean threw a clump of snow down Sam’s shirt making the five-year-old squeal. John ran forward, pushing the sled, then hopped on the back.

There was a small hill, then a part in the course where it was level, and then it drops again like a roller coaster. 

The first time they went down, they felt a little bump. Nothing really exiting. Dean complained that his Dad had no idea what the meaning of fun was as they climbed the hill. 

“It’s because the snow wasn’t compacted, smart ass. Just you wait. We’re gonna go way faster.” 

Well as it turns out, Dean’s Dad was right. He somehow always seemed to be. But it wasn’t the fastest thing in the world. They gained a little more momentum, enough to bring a smile to their faces. The jump was a fun “wee!” jump. 

The third time: same thing but the jump was a little higher. Dean was belly laughing by the time he reached the bottom. Sam was bouncing up and down, dragging his Dad’s hand and trying to pull him up the hill faster. Dad was too slow for Sam at everything. 

“Come on, Daddy! Hurry! Hurry!” 

“Easy Sammy, the hill’s not going anywhere.” John laughed as he dragged the heavy wooden sled up the slippery hill. 

By now, the snow was so packed they were sure to be speeding down the hill. But it was good old Dean who suggested they go back further to get an even faster running start. 

“Come on Dad, put the sled back here.” Dean said. So John listened to him. He ran a few feet forward before jumping in the back of the sled and holy crap. 

As soon as his Dad’s big body tipped the sled over the hill, Dean knew this was going to be bad. 

They were gaining so much speed as they approached the jump, Dean clutched his father’s arm for dear life. Sammy did the same thing. 

“Hold on boys.” John said with a huge grin. They dip over the second hill, and for a good three seconds they were flying in mid-air. It was breathtaking. If there was ever a moment to hit pause on life, this would be it. If it was a movie, it would be a slow motion moment. 

Of course, for them, the slow motion was very short lived. The sled drops like a stone and when it lands, it cracks into a million pieces. All three Winchester’s go rolling in different directions down the snowy hill. 

“Oh my God!” Dean screamed in amazement. “That was insane. Sammy? You okay?” 

“Dean!” Sam screamed, a cry of worry. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, wobbling over to his little brother. Sam was standing next to the broken sled. He was also next to Dad, who was on his stomach with his face planted in the snow. 

His body was shaking like he was having a convulsion. Or like he was trying to do the worm, but failing miserably. 

“I think Daddy’s dead.” Sam said, pointing at is father. 

But when John looked up, he was laughing. Fat tears were rolling down his pinked cheeks as he shook on the snow. It subsided few minutes later when he stood up, and grabbed his aching back. 

“Oh man,”  He laughed, “that was great.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “That was too great.” 

“Our sled broke.” Sam giggled. 

“Yeah Sammy. It definitely did.” John said, lifting Sam up. “Come on. I guess we can’t sled anymore.”

The three Winchester’s stumbled home laughing. When they got to the cabin, the fun was over. John got down to business and got him and his boys out of their cold, wet clothes and into something dry. 

“You two aren’t hurt right?” 

“No sir.” They said together. 

“That was insane. I still can’t believe we broke the sled.” John smiled, lighting up the room. 

“I can’t believe we were flying.” Dean said, crawling into bed. 

John tucked Dean and Sam into bed, pleased when Dean let him. 

“Good night boys. I hope you had fun.” 

“We did Dad.” Dean smiled. 

“Yeah Daddy. I had fun.” Sam said. 

“Good. Tomorrow we have to go back on the road.” 


End file.
